


Escape the Dark Mistress

by theatricalInsomniac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 2nd Person, AU, F/F, Modern Setting, No Witches or Wizards, Only Magic Belongs to Voldemort, Rule 63, genderbent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3061400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theatricalInsomniac/pseuds/theatricalInsomniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dracora (Draco) Malfoy was a normal 19 year old girl balancing college with her job, when she got mixed in with Lady Voldemort, an evil woman with strange power who insisted on being addressed as "Dark Mistress". Dracora's abusive mother, Lucienne, adds to the mix by forcing Dracora to 'work' for the Dark Mistress, which results in sexual abuse from both ends. Dracora struggles to keep her faith in people through her new found interest in Harley Potter, the person she hated the most in high school, and despite Harley's relationship with Gregory Weasley, Dracora pursues her, sure that she is the answer to all of her problems.  </p><p>Please read this, the summary doesn't do it justice I promise. </p><p>Forewarning, if you have issues with things written in second person, I would suggest not reading this.<br/>Also, there are warnings of Rape/Non-Con for this Fic, so kindly remember that it is for the sake of the story, not for the sake of sexual pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who Are You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is simply the beginning of the book, in which the reader is introduced to the situation and the emotions that Dracora feels.

You are breathing hard as you run down the sidewalk, your vision blurred from fear, your veins pumping with the adrenaline rush. As you turn the corner to face your apartment building, you hastily dig in your purse to find your keys. You are desperate to get inside before She finds you. You slam into your door, startled that you arrived to your destination so quickly. You attempt to get the key in the doorknob, but you are shaking. You begin to notice the sticky sweat covering your body, how your damp hair makes your neck itch. Finally, you breathe a sigh of relief as the key slips in the hole. You turn it, already feeling the dark tendrils of Her presence.

            The knob clicks and you push open the door, slamming it behind you. You plant yourself firmly against it, irrationally thinking that the act could stop Her entrance. Your blood pounds in your ears, the key slips out of your sweaty hand. Suddenly, Her presence disappears and you slide down the door, leaving a trail of wet heat. You attempt to control your ragged breath, your panic edging off while you shake violently. You draw in your knees to your chest, almost as if you are attempting to hold yourself together.

            A clawing at the door startles you out of your stupor. Your heart stops as you wait for whatever will happen next. A low meow sounds and you chuckle slightly at yourself, realizing that it is nothing but your cat, Beatrice. You stand, wiping your arm across your sweaty brow, then open the door to let in your sweet feline. She enters your apartment, tail held high and eyes narrowed as she looks up at you. “Hello there Bea. What were you doing outside,” you hum to her.

            She meows somewhat smarmily at you, and then hops up on the couch only to fall asleep in a little purring ball. “Well at least one of us can relax,” you sigh, then close the door, locking all four locks for precautionary measures.

            Shooting one more look at Beatrice, you make your way back to your bathroom, aching for a shower. Your reflection startles you as you enter the room and catch a glimpse in the mirror. You lean over the counter, curious for a closer look. There are dark shadows under your eyes and a deep purple bruise on your right cheek. Your eyebrow is split open and the blood had dried down your face. You reach up and touch the scratches on your neck, wincing from the pain as you do so. You tremble violently, swallowing a sob. Tears fall from your eyes, mixing with the blood. You avoid meeting your own gaze, too ashamed to see the weakness within yourself.

            You grab the bottom hem of your shirt and lift it over your head, refusing to focus on the scratches and bruises on your stomach. You remove your bra, trying not to notice the bruises and bite marks that cover your breasts and collar bone. You unbutton your jeans and slip them off, catching glimpses of yet more bite marks and bruises. Finally, you slide your panties down your legs, gulping down another sob as you catch sight of the worst wound yet. You test the red, raised skin where She has claimed you. She has carved the word “MINE” into the skin of your left hip. Blood still oozes out of the wound, and with a sickening jolt you realize that the word was carved with her teeth.

            You hastily turn on the sink faucet, desperate to clean the wound before it festers. You gather cold water on your hand and run it over the wound, whimpering as it offers some relief. You glance up to the mirror and meet your own gaze. You gasp as you see the pain and fear and weakness that now lives within your eyes.

            Your head rushes and you gasp for breath as another wave of panic seizes you, and you vomit into the sink, the cold water swiftly carrying the stomach acid down the drain. You stand with your hands gripping the edges of the cabinet, the wood digging into your palm, as you dry heave over the small metal basin. You look up again to meet your grey-eyed gaze, and laugh. You wonder, through all of this, who exactly you are. You laugh louder. You are sure of three things. One, you are the esteemed Dracora Malfoy. Two you have become nothing.  Three, you are terrified that the Dark Mistress will kill you, and soon.

              


	2. Your Memories Can Only Haunt You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that reveals Dracora's first meeting with the Dark Mistress, and her Mother, Lucienne, is introduced. Please enjoy. 
> 
> I have also had some requests that the gender's not change, but I will not be adhering to those requests. It is my right as the author to morph my story into any fashion that I choose, and your right as the reader to decide whether or not to continue reading the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who have been reading this! And to those who leave comments. I greatly appreciate it! QuQ

_You make your way slowly up the brick walkway to the mansion on the edges of town. Today is your first day to see Her. It is time for you to take your mother’s place as assistant to the Dark Mistress. You tremble, and then chastise yourself for the weakness that you show. This is what you always wanted, to hold the admiration of all, to be on top of the world. The only way you will get there is to work for the highest, and the Dark Mistress is just that. You will make your mom proud._

_You nervously scratch your chest, feeling your panic increasing. You breathe deeply and let it out slowly, attempting to slow your heart rate. It does not keep the chills from racing down your spine as you stare up at the many gargoyles that watch you with menacing glares. You climb the stone steps, your legs threatening to give out on you. You want nothing more than to turn and run, but you push through, and after what seems like hours, you lift the door-knocker and let it fall on the heavy wood three times. You wait, and a few long moments later, the door creaks open, showing a foyer lit only by candelabras hitched high up on the twelve-foot walls. “Come in.” You hear a feminine, seductive voice seemingly near you. You feel a presence, but there is no one there. You gulp back a whimper and step over the threshold, your hands clasped in front of you. “Hello? Mistress?” You bite your lip nervously as you wait for an answer._

_The door slams loudly behind you, leaving you alone in the dimly-lit, cold foyer. You jump, then glance around you, looking for any exit points. You find none. “Come.” You think you hear a whisper, but after taking in your surroundings, you decide that you are possibly insane. There is no hint of life in your midst. A candelabra flashes in your peripheral, and you notice that it was not lit before. Unsure of yourself, you slowly walk towards it. As you do, candelabras farther down the hall begin to light, and the ones behind you go out. Scared, yet curious, you continue on, following the flames._

_You come to a dark red door with what looks like snakes carved into it. The only candles lit now are the two beside the door you stand before. You take a deep breath then raise your hand to knock. The door creaks open before your hand lands on the wood. “Enter.” It is the same seductive voice as before. You enter the room, slightly brighter from a fire on the far wall. There is a figure sitting in the chair before the fire. From what you can tell of their silhouette, they are running a brush through their long hair. “Come forward.” The voice sounds again._

_“Are you the Dark Mistress?” The calm clarity of your voice surprises you._

_“I am She. Come closer, sit with me Dracora. Shall we get to know each other?”You walk towards the chair, thankful that you can relieve your shaking legs._

_“Dracora.” Her voice rings again, with a chastising tone._

_“Mistress?” You implore of Her, wondering what it is you have done wrong._

_“You must greet me properly.”You inch towards her, avoiding her gaze. You move to hold Her hand so that you may plant a kiss on Her fingers. She pulls Her hand away slightly. “Not the hand Dracora. The cheek.”_

_You gulp back another whimper and your legs shake more violently. You lean down and kiss the papery thinness of Her cheek. You feel Her smile beneath the touch of your lips. “Greetings Mistress,” you mutter before turning away and finally planting yourself in the velvet softness of the chair before Her._

_For the first time, you allow yourself to take in Her image. She is thin and pale, resembling death. The features of Her face are sharp, reminding you of a skull. It is as if She is nothing but bone and skin. You run your gaze over the long black curls that She continues to brush with long, thin fingers. She smiles at you, and you catch a glimpse of Her sharp teeth, as if each one had been individually sharpened. “Meet my gaze Dracora.” You do as She demands, staring into Her pale white eyes. “I am very satisfied with our arrangement,” She murmurs, Her voice thick with lust._

_“What is our arrangement, exactly, Mistress?”_

_“It is a simple one. You are mine.” She cackles madly, but you do not notice. You are too busy drowning in Her sadistic gaze. Your vision goes black. You hear your heart beating slower. Beep. Beep. Beep. Pounding in your ears and growing louder by the moment. You scream._

You wake up to your alarm blaring, Beatrice lying on your chest. You reach over and slam the off button on your alarm clock, saving you from the horrible noise. Your cat’s hot breath blows into your face, and you shove her off your chest with more force than necessary, she meows loudly at you before leaping to the floor and leaving your room with her tail held high.

            You notice your present state, blankets tangled around your legs, lying in a pool of sweat. You make a disgusted noise then get out of bed. You gather your bedding and drag it to the washing machine, deciding to wash the sweat from it. You dump soap powder in the machine on top of your blankets and sheets then close the lid, putting it on heavy load. The machine starts with a whir then maintains its usual rhythm. 

            You peel your damp pajamas from your body, then head to the shower despite having taken one the night before. You tremble as chills crawl down your spine and arms when you turn the hot water on to you. You whimper as the heat relaxes you, working out the kinks and knots you accumulated through the night. The dream comes back to you as you clean yourself. You sigh as you place it as your first meeting with the Mistress. Ever since you began working for her, you have been haunted with the memories, reliving them every night in your sleep.

            You shiver as you notice the water turn cold. Done with your shower, you turn of the water and dry yourself off with a towel before dressing yourself in black leggings and an oversized, but expensive, green sweater. You look at your reflection in the mirror, at your grey eyes, your silvery-blonde hair, and your pale skin with bruises. You sigh then reach for your makeup so you can conceal the damage from your last visit. Satisfied with your appearance, you make your way to your small kitchen to get some breakfast. You are disappointed to find that your refrigerator is practically empty, and you reach for the half- eaten loaf of bread on the counter and place a couple pieces in the toaster.

            When the pieces finish toasting, you sit at the table and nibble at the corner of a piece deciding that you are not very hungry anyway. A ringing sound causes you to jump and you realize with a chuckle that it is only your cell phone. You find it inside your purse, and take it out, recognizing the number as your mother’s. You roll your eyes before pressing the talk button to answer. “Hello?”

            “Dracora darling, how are you?” Your mother’s voice causes you to cringe. You never got along with her, and for good reason.

            “Why do you care?” You take another bite of toast before throwing both pieces into Beatrice’s food dish.

            “Because you are my only daughter and I love you.”                                            

            “That almost made me laugh. When did you get so funny Mother Dearest?”

            “Watch your tone Dracora! I called to tell you to make your way over here this evening. Your father wants you here; I do not know what for. So I am officially inviting you to dinner.”

            “Oh boy how wonderfully exciting!” You roll your eyes, well aware that your mother’s cordiality is fake.

            “So shall we set a place for you at the dinner table?”

            “Yes, I will be there. For Father.”

            “Marvelous! Kiss-Kiss, Darling,” your mother exclaims before ending the call.  

            You scoff and shove your phone back into your purse. You watch as Beatrice enters the kitchen and sniffs at the toast in her food dish. She looks up at you, her feline face holding contempt as she meows loudly at you. “Yeah alright, I will go grocery shopping. Just let me get my shoes on you impatient little brat.” With that, you stand up to hunt for your boots.   

**Author's Note:**

> For reference:  
> Dracora Malfoy=Draco Malfoy  
> Lucienne Malfoy=Lucius Malfoy  
> Nazarus Malfoy=Narcissa Malfoy  
> Lady Voldemort/The Dark Mistress=Lord Voldemort  
> Harley Potter=Harry Potter  
> Gregory Weasley=Ginny Weasley  
> Rosalind Weasley= Ron Weasley  
> Horatio Granger= Hermione Granger  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Please critique me, I enjoy feedback. Although, I would appreciate it if you are nice about it.  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Also, please remember that if you are offended by anything that takes place within this fic, you can stop reading at any time and are by no means required to keep reading.  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> If you would like to get to know me, there are several ways to do so.  
> I do not have constant internet, but there will be times you can reach me, so if you really want to chat about fandoms, I am willing to do so.  
> Skype: fandom.trash (The name will either be Andi or Amanda, or on occasion when I troll my best friend it may  
> be Johnny Depp.)  
> Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/escapethedarkmistress  
> DeviantArt: Foudre-Froid (I would not suggest this, as I am on it very seldom...)  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Thanks for reading!!  
> QuQ


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